ebookslot Chapter 70 The Sleeping Hogwarts Castle
Chapter 70 The Sleeping Hogwarts Castle
Chapter 70 The Sleeping Hogwarts Castle
As the headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Albus Dumbledore possesses unique privileges beyond those of ordinary wizards within the ancient magical barrier of Hogwarts.
These privileges are a contract ingrained in his blood, his reliance for protecting this ancient fortress and dealing with ever-changing crises.
For example, he can freely open or close the ancient protective magic arrays buried deep in the castle's foundation and integrated into every brick and tile with a thought or a gesture.
For example, the most convenient and crucial aspect is that he can Apparate from anywhere in Hogwarts.
This allows him to instantly reach the center of any emergency on campus, whether it's a potion incident deep in the cellar or a student dispute at the top of the tower—he can arrive in an instant, making it incredibly convenient.
This privilege is a symbol of the responsibilities and power of successive principals, and also one of the key capabilities to respond to crises in the event of a crisis within the school.
However, just now, when he left the Stone Tower Merchant Guild and used Apparition to reach the coordinates he could draw with his eyes closed—the Headmaster's office in Hogwarts Castle—a strange thing happened!
Just as he was about to manifest his phantom behind the principal's desk in the office, a vast, gentle yet strangely familiar force, like the most resilient magical silk, instantly enveloped his entire body.
This force was not an attack, but rather a gentle yet resolute push that carried him away from his destination, placing him on the steps outside the massive oak doors of Hogwarts Castle.
The night wind ruffled his long, silvery beard and robes, bringing with it the scent of damp earth and fir trees from the depths of the Forbidden Forest.
Dumbledore steadied himself, a rare hint of surprise flashing in the depths of his deep blue eyes.
He looked around at the familiar castle before him, silent and imposing in the night, like a sleeping behemoth, its ancient stone walls gleaming coldly in the moonlight.
After only a moment's thought, he stepped onto the familiar steps and entered the castle gates.
Inside the castle, he was greeted not by the usual hustle and bustle or the quiet whispers of the night, but by a deathly still slumber.
He walked up the familiar path toward the principal's office in the tower.
Footsteps echoed exceptionally clearly, even somewhat jarringly, on the stone slabs of the empty corridor.
He keenly noticed that the portraits of historical figures hanging on the walls on both sides of the corridor, whether they were majestic knights, dignified noblewomen or comical fairies, all had their eyes tightly closed at this moment.
He had fallen into a deep, unconscious sleep. The background colors of the portrait seemed to have dimmed, the paint had solidified, and time seemed to have stood still on the canvas.
Those magical armors that used to stand at corners or by archways, whose helmets would turn or whose postures would adjust slightly on their own, are now frozen in place like delicate iron sheets whose souls have been taken away.
The cold metal surfaces reflected the faint glow of the embers in the fireplace, yet they exuded no sign of life. They were no longer the guardians of the castle, but merely piles of heavy ornaments.
The vibrant magical pulse that Hogwarts was so proud of has vanished.
Those staircases that would mischievously move and change direction on their own were now frozen to the floor, completely immobile.
The doors that would automatically open upon the principal's arrival were now silently closed, requiring him to push them open himself.
The entire castle seemed to be under a vast and incredibly effective sleeping spell, with all the magical creations and the souls within the paintings trapped in the same bottomless dream.
Apart from his own footsteps and breathing, nothing in the entire castle was awake.
Dumbledore's brow furrowed slightly, and beneath his long, silvery eyebrows, his insightful blue eyes became incredibly serious. The scene before him reminded him of a corresponding situation buried deep in his memory.
He maintained a steady pace and finally arrived at the familiar entrance guarded by the dripping stone beast—the stone beast was as still and asleep as an ordinary stone sculpture—he pushed open the oak door at the end of the spiral staircase behind him and stepped into his principal's office.
Unexpectedly, but also predictably, the office was empty.
Everything seemed to have remained exactly as it was. The exquisite silver instruments on the table were still spinning tirelessly, spewing out thin, spiraling plumes of smoke from their tips.
The fire in the fireplace burned low, making a soft crackling sound; it was the only faint source of heat and sound in this silent space.
Dumbledore's sharp gaze swept across the entire space, finally settling on the most prominent decoration in the office—the portraits of all the past Hogwarts headmasters hanging around the four walls.
These ancestors, who usually pretended to be asleep to eavesdrop on his conversations, were now all, without exception, in a deep and genuine sleep.
Principal Dippert tilted his head and made soft snores; Phineas Nigellus even opened his mouth slightly; the others were also relaxed, sleeping soundly in their respective gilded frames, showing no reaction to his return.
This was not a disguise, but rather a forced entry into a dream by some powerful force.
His gaze shifted to the corner.
The Sorting Hat, that ancient hat that has witnessed a thousand years of Hogwarts history, now sits quietly on the shelf next to the high stool.
The hat tip was pulled up, looking lifeless.
Just then, a tiny, wrinkled baby bird emerged from the ashes beneath the tall, gilded perch.
The fledgling looked at Dumbledore and let out a tender chirp.
"Good day, Fawkes." Dumbledore smiled as he saw the fledgling bird emerging from the ashes.
He then surveyed the room, which was now completely still, confirming his suspicions.
He bent down, lifted Fox from the ground with both hands, and placed him back on the gilded perch.
"I'm very sorry, Fox, but you'll have to wait a little longer."
After saying that, he turned around, closed the oak door to the principal's office, and then opened it again.
He stepped through the door.
What's amazing is that behind the oak door is a room exactly like his current principal's office.
The room's furnishings and layout were exactly the same as the one behind him.
But unlike the room behind it, everything in this room was hazy and gray, as if everything was covered with a gray veil, making it seem less real.
On the walls of the room, the portraits of the past principals are frozen in time, like Muggle photographs.
The silverware on the table stopped spinning and remained frozen in place.
Dumbledore looked toward the headmaster's desk.
Behind the desk, in the principal's chair, sat a familiar figure in a suit.
When he saw Headmaster Dumbledore open the door and walk in, Lynch's face lit up with a warm smile.
"Headmaster Dumbledore, we've been waiting for you to return."
After saying that, he raised his hand and pointed to a pair of small, exquisite silver bracelets on the table: "I hope you don't mind that I took them off without permission."
After wearing it for a while, I still feel... it's more comfortable when my wrist feels empty.